


Fine, Totally Fine

by perfect_plan



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Steve, Chronic Illness, Existential Angst, Hospitals, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mortality, Poor Bucky, Recovery, Sickness, steve really needs to talk to someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 13:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfect_plan/pseuds/perfect_plan
Summary: After a serious illness, Steve is struggling to cope and takes out his frustration on the one person he cares for the most.





	Fine, Totally Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Argh, how has been so long between fics?? Apologies for the late late LATE posting of this story! This year has been insanely busy for me workwise (and super exciting) and it hasn't left much time for writing. I do think about Stucky fics and writing all the time though! This one isn't as fleshed out as I would have liked but I've missed posting so much and just wanted to get something done.
> 
> I hope you're all well and that you enjoy this story!

In the moments that he floats into consciousness, Steve knows it’s bad this time. He’d thought he was coming down with something and had prayed that it wasn’t the flu but...well. His dreams are weird and blurry and Bucky is there because Bucky’s always there and Steve feels like he’s far away and wrapped in a wet blanket; too hot and heavy and then too cold and sweaty. There’s a beeping that is constantly at the edge of his mind and he searches for it but he can’t find it. It’s nice though, tethering.

One afternoon, he breaks through the hazy waves of his dreams and blinks awake. He feels terrible. The pressure on his chest is agony and he’s so tired he can’t even be upset. He wiggles his fingers and even that’s enough to make him feel even more exhausted. He can see a call button down by his hand and scrabbles feebly, pressing it and then closing his eyes against the room around him. He hates hospitals but they’re as familiar to him as his own home.

A moment later a nurse comes into the room. She’s pretty with wavy shoulder-length hair and she smiles.

“Hey, Mr Rogers. Good morning.” She comes to his side and checks the machine by the bed. “I’m Daisy. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Steve swallows and everything feels wrong. “What...happened?”

Daisy adjusts his bed slightly. “I’ll get your doctor but you caught pneumonia.”

Steve closes his eyes again. “Shit.” This is worse than he thought.

“Shit is right,” Daisy says and her voice is soft. “But you’re awake and that’s a big improvement at least.”

“Bucky...um, James. Does he...”

Daisy smiles. “Oh, we all like Bucky. I’ll call him.”

Of course Bucky would charm everyone here. He charms everyone everywhere. Steve feels a mix of relief that Bucky has been here and dealing with him and guilt. Bucky always has to deal with him. Daisy must see something on his face because she gently takes his hand.

“He’s a good friend. He knows this wasn’t your fault so don’t dwell on whatever it is that’s making you make that face.”

Steve nods weakly, exhausted. He coughs and agony shoots through him. He whimpers.

Daisy reaches up to the drip above him. “I’m going to give you something for the pain, okay? Rest and when you wake up again, you can talk to your doctor.”

“Thank you. So much,” Steve slurs and falls asleep.

*

When Steve blinks awake again, Bucky is there. Whenever Steve has been hospitalized in the past, Bucky is always the first thing that’s there when he comes to, chirpy and glad and ready to read to him when he gets bored and make him laugh when he gets upset.

But today, Bucky looks drawn and tired and his eyes are wide. He leans forward when Steve stirs.

“Steve. Hey Stevie,” Bucky says and his voice is rough.

Steve smiles. “Hey Buck.”

Bucky swallows and forces a smile that Steve knows is fake. “Welcome back, jerk.”

“Punk,” Steve mutters. “Pneumonia?”

“Double pneumonia,” Bucky says, his hand on Steve’s arm, warm and firm. “And pleurisy because why not?”

Steve chuffs and coughs again. He closes his eyes against the sharp pain in his chest and shoulder. “Fuck.”

Bucky sighs and it’s deep and tired and Steve’s stomach clenches because of it. No matter how ill he’s been in the past, Bucky has never sounded like that. “Yeah, fuck.”

“How bad?”

Bucky looks at him for a moment but doesn’t look away because Bucky is always honest with Steve. “Really bad.”

Steve’s eyes well up. “I’m sorry.”

Over the years, Steve has tried to make peace with his body and immune system and the fact that both don’t work in the ways that they should. But at times like this, he feels helpless and ashamed. He knows he shouldn’t; it’s no-one’s fault.

“Steve, unless you did this on purpose to get back at me for accidentally breaking your favorite mug, shut the fuck up right now.” Bucky’s eyes get wet too.

Steve stares up at the ceiling. “Guess I won’t be doing anything for a while.”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair. Steve frowns when he sees a few little glimpses of grey in the dark brown. “You’ll be in here for at least 4 weeks. Your system took a big hit and the doctors want to make sure you don’t get any other infections before you leave. When you’re well enough to come home, I’ve arranged time off work.”

“Bucky, no -”

“It’s done. I can work from home.”

A lump sticks in Steve’s throat and it tastes bitter. He just nods because it’s easier.

Bucky smiles and it’s a little more like the Bucky smile Steve dreams about when he lets himself. “Hey, it’ll be fun. Like camp but just with the two of us.”

Steve chuffs. “I hated camp.”

“I know. That’s why this will be better.”

Steve swallows and blinks. “Thank you, Buck.”

Bucky sighs tiredly and gives Steve’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Get better, pal,” he says softly.

*

Steve feels like he’s spent most of his life trying to prove himself to everyone. Always the weakest, always the smallest but trying not to let anyone else think that of him. He knows it pisses Bucky off, that Bucky has told him time and time again that he doesn’t have to prove himself to anyone when Steve has always tried to prove himself to Bucky the most. Bucky who is tall and strong and handsome, who has been his best friend since they were five and who Steve has loved for just as long. Bucky, who has never left him behind. He never quite understood when Bucky saw in him all those years ago. All Steve knows is that he’s in love with Bucky but tries to forget he is most days because Bucky doesn’t love him back. He loves him sure, but he’s not _in_ love with Steve. He never will be and Steve is fine with that. Kind of.

And now Bucky has to take care of him again and Steve hates his stupid crappy immune system. He spends the next weeks in hospital ill and fuming like an angry cat, trying not to take it out on the people caring for him. Bucky visits every day. The Barnes family send him a huge care package from Indiana filled with food and letters and the kind of love he gets from Bucky’s family that makes his heart hurt. When his mom had died, the Barnes family hadn’t hesitated in welcoming him whenever he needed them and he’d been more devastated about their move to Indiana than he’d let on. He and Bucky had lived together all through college and their jobs were here in New York but Bucky’s parents always had them both for every holiday, paying for both of their plane tickets and Steve had finally stopped trying to protest about it.

“What’s the matter?” Bucky asks as soon as steps into Steve’s room one day after work, hurrying to see him before visiting hours are over. Steve knows that the staff would let him stay anyway as Bucky is all Steve has.

Steve swallows, somewhere between anger and shame. “Mr Gillis called. I don’t have a job any more.”

Bucky’s shoulders sag but he doesn’t look shocked. This isn’t the first time this has happened. “Shit.”

“He was real good about it but still,” Steve says. He stares ahead blankly.

Bucky sighs and sits down in the chair by Steve’s bed. “We’ll be okay. I know that’s not the point but we’ll be okay.”

Steve had enjoyed his job at the print store. He understood Mr Gillis’s position and he had promised to get in touch with Steve should another position open when he was fully recovered.

“Daisy said with any luck you’ll be out next week,” Bucky says brightly.

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

“I can see why you’re so down about it,” Bucky says with good-humoured sarcasm. “The food here is top-notch.”

Steve forces a smile. “I’m happy. I am. I can’t wait to get home.”

Bucky smiles at him. “Me too.”

*

There’s still a lot of recovery time to be had and doctor’s appointments but Steve can’t deny how good it feels to finally be home. As soon as he steps through the door he feels comforted by the familiarity of Bucky’s couch, his little corner where he paints and draws. The place is spotless.

Steve shuffles over to the couch, the trip home from the hospital already enough to wind him. “What did you do, hire a cleaner?”

Bucky puts down Steve’s hospital bags. “How dare you. I did this with my own two hands. And Sam’s two hands. And maybe one of Clint’s hands because he refused to put down his cup of coffee.”

Steve laughs softly and rests his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes. “It looks great. Thank you.”

“You doing okay?” Bucky asks as he walks over to the kitchen. He’s trying to sound nonchalant but Steve can hear the concern.

“Just tired. Everything makes me tired at the moment.”

Bucky is rooting around in the fridge. “Well, they said that was to be expected after the pneumonia and the pleurisy. But it’s not like you have to do much because you now have your own personal manservant.”

Steve laughs again but he forces it. He doesn’t want to be reliant on Bucky. “Are you going to give me sponge baths too?”

“Hell no, you can wash your own balls.”

Steve actually does laugh at that.

*

For the next week, their routine is pretty much get up, watch TV, eat, maybe go out on the fire escape for some fresh air with their coffee, more TV, more food, sleep. Steve naps frequently, usually curled up the couch while Bucky reads or cooks. He cooks a lot now, more than he used to. He’s enjoying it.

“I got a recipe for chilli that I want to try,” he says one afternoon, thumbing through his phone.

“Go for it,” Steve says, his voice muffled by the blanket he’s wrapped in.

“Are you warm enough?” Bucky asks.

“M’fine.”

“It’s no hassle to turn the heat on. I know it’s not freezing yet but-”

“Buck, it’s fine,” Steve says and just manages to hold back sounding sharp. Bucky mothering him too much makes him feel weird.

Bucky gets up and heads to the kitchen. “Okay boss.”

Steve blinks at the TV which is playing It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia at low volume. “I should start looking for a job. I mean, at least look at what’s around. For when I get better.”

Bucky is quiet for a moment in the small kitchen. “Don’t worry about that for a while, huh? Just spend some time getting back on your feet first.”

Steve sits up, a little dizzy and looks over at Bucky. “Buck, I can’t not have a job.”

Bucky busies himself with some onions, peeling them and getting ready to dice. “I’m saying,” he says carefully, “that you don’t have to worry about it for a while.”

Steve knows the I’m-trying-to-hide-something-from-you-without-upsetting-you look on Bucky’s face. “Bucky?”

Bucky sighs. “Mom and Dad have given me some money.”

Steve tenses. Charity from Bucky he can deal with just about but from Fred and George? No way. “How much?” His voice is sharp.

“I’m not telling you. Enough for us both to have to not worry for a while. Don’t make that face. They love you and believe me, I put up a fight and they wouldn’t back down. I don’t feel guilty about taking it now.”

“Well, I do!” Steve says and starts to cough. Bucky watches him. “It’s humiliating.”

Bucky frowns. “How?”

Steve splutters, half from coughing, half from indignity. “It’s like I’m some charity case!”

Bucky sighs. “They gave me the money because they love you, idiot. Not because they feel sorry for you. You’re practically family. I stopped them from visiting you in the hospital because I knew how much you’d hate that, but I couldn’t stop them from doing this.”

Steve feels guilty all over again. “I didn’t...I wanted to see them. I just can’t stand it when people see me...like...”

“I know, Stevie,” Bucky says softly from the kitchen. “And they know.”

They’re silent for a while, just the sound of Bucky’s chopping and the pan sizzling as he adds oil and garlic.

“Besides,” Bucky finally says, breaking the silence, “I wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to take time off of work to help you back on your feet. God knows I need it too.”

Steve’s about to ask him what he means when Bucky picks up a knife. “Come here and help me chop onions. You can at least weep for the amazing meal I’m about to cook for you.”

Steve smiles now and gets up. They chop onions side by side, tears streaming down their faces.

*

Bucky throws himself into the cooking thing. He goes out shopping and comes back with food that must cost a fortune, things they could never afford before and Steve wonders just how much money Bucky’s parents gave him. It makes him feel scared and angry but Bucky is so happy that Steve can’t say anything. He hates that Bucky has to take care of him but part of him loves it; loves that Bucky is home with him, giving him attention. He doesn’t have to tamp down the resentment of loving Bucky when Bucky doesn’t love him as much. All of the conflicting emotions are giving Steve an ulcer, he’s sure of it.

Bucky cooks soups and stews and pies and hashes and each one tastes better than the last. Bucky is getting really good at cooking and he enjoys it, enjoys blending up smoothies for them both, enjoys making bread filled with olives and seeds. Their apartment smells amazing all the time.

Steve doesn’t feel amazing. He feels tired all the time. His recovery is slow, slower than the doctors expected and they’re “keeping an eye on him.” Dr Banner is nice and he doesn’t bullshit.

“Steve, your immune system took one hell of a beating. It’s going to take time to get back to where you were.” Dr Banner folds his hands on his big wooden desk. His office is cosy. Steve likes it. His exam took nearly an hour and his arm is sore from the bloodwork that had to be taken.

Steve swallows. Where he was wasn’t that great to begin with. “I know, I just...feel...useless.”

“Don’t because you aren’t. Let your body do what it has to do.”

Steve chews the inside of his cheek. “But you’re worried about my recovery time.”

Dr Banner nods. “I am and you’ll be walking out of here with more pills than you’d like but my worry stems more from making sure you don’t catch pneumonia again. That’s why you can’t push it right now.”

Steve chuffs. “Believe me, no-one will let me push anything. I spend all day on the couch being fed.”

Dr Banner smiles. “You look good. I’m very happy with your weight. Your friend is taking your recovery very seriously and that’s great.”

Steve feels a flash of anger directed at Bucky, who is sitting outside the office. Steve didn’t want him in here and for some reason Dr Banner’s praise of Bucky irks him. Like everyone else is doing a good job with Steve’s recovery except for him.

Dr Banner taps on his computer and the printer spits out several scripts. “Sorry to have to add these to your pill pile but I want to try and boost your cell counts. Keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll call you when your bloods come back. _I’ll _call, not my nurses.”

“Thanks, Dr Banner.” Steve picks up his bag and stands up.

Dr Banner stands too. “You’re doing good, Steve,” he says softly. “I know it sucks but you’re a tough little bastard.”

Steve laughs then. He likes Dr Banner’s sincerity and slight unprofessionalism. It’s what got him and Bucky through some of the harder days in the hospital. Steve can tell he really does care and he’s glad for any of the people who get to have Dr Banner look after them.

Bucky is reading a copy of Good Housekeeping in the waiting room and stands as soon as Steve comes out. “How’d it go?”

Steve shrugs. “He took some blood so I have to wait for the results. I’m recovering slower than he’d like and he’s worried that I’m in a position to catch pneumonia again.”

Bucky frowns and rolls the magazine in his hands. “So what can we do about that?”

Steve clenches his jaw at “we”. “Nothing. I just have to rest.”

“Well, let’s get home. We can make a start on Dark. I’m looking forward to picking up some German.” Bucky smiles.

They walk out of the office. Bucky is still holding the copy of Good Housekeeping.

“Aren’t you going to put that back?” Steve says.

Bucky grins. “There are some recipes I want to try. They won’t miss it.”

*

As well as being tired all the time, Steve is angry too. Angrier than he was before. Dr Banner had set up an appointment for a therapist, because of what Steve had just been through, and he doesn’t go and he doesn’t tell Bucky about it. Steve doesn’t want to talk about it; he doesn’t want to talk about being ill any more. He just wants things to be better. _He_ wants to be better. He wants to work and he wants Bucky to go back to work and just not be here all the time, cooking for him and watching him whenever he coughs.

He starts to be less pleasant to Bucky too and he hates himself for it. He especially hates how Bucky just takes it.

“I’m going to try and make a Key Lime Pie,” Bucky says one morning.

“Okay,” Steve says blankly from the couch as he watches Gilmore Girls.

“There’s a recipe here that-”

“Whatever Buck. Just make the god damn pie. I don’t need to hear every little detail,” Steve snaps and he feels like an asshole. He doesn’t look at Bucky.

Bucky is quiet for a moment and then moves off to the kitchen. The credits roll on the episode and Netflix lines the next one up.

“Oh hey, I love this episode,” Bucky says from the kitchen, as if nothing has happened.

Steve wants to cry.

*

He’s not being fair to Bucky and he knows it. Bucky let’s him vent though and doesn’t say anything back and Steve hates him for it because he’s letting Steve have control over _something_ in his life and it’s being a dick to the one person he loves the most. He hates himself for loving Bucky and being a horrible person to him and he hates Bucky for not loving him back. His anger becomes a hard, bitter, constant ball in his chest.

*

He starts to stay in bed. It’s easier than moving to the couch to just sleep anyway. It’s easier than having to listen to Bucky be chipper. Bucky tries to coax him out at first but stops when Steve tells him to just go away and let him be alone for a while.

“I need some space,” Steve says from his cocoon of blankets.

“Okay,” Bucky says breezily but Steve knows him well enough to hear the hurt in his voice. Bucky closes the door and doesn’t bother Steve for two days.

On day three, Steve knows he needs a shower. He listens at his door and when he can’t hear Bucky in the living room, he grabs his towel and heads for the bathroom. As he passes Bucky’s room, he can hear him on the phone and he stops to listen.

“I know, Sam. I’m just getting really worried and I don’t know what to do. Everything I try just annoys him. He’s getting worse.”

Anger flares up in Steve again. Sam lives in Boston and won’t be back in New York for a while and Steve hasn’t spoken to him much, just dropped texts because he doesn’t want to talk to anyone and have to listen to the pity. The fact that Sam and Bucky talk behind his back is just the icing on the cake.

“I’ll try,” Bucky is saying now, “but I won’t hold my breath. When do you think you’ll be coming back?”

Steve heads off into the bathroom and fumes under the hot water of the shower for twenty minutes. When he gets out, he puts on his robe and hopes Bucky is out but he steps out into the hall when he hears Steve, stirring something in a mixing bowl.

“Hey, I’m making giant pretzels. Want to help?”

“What, _Sam_ can’t help? Since you’re such great friends and all?” Steve says bitterly.

Bucky sighs through his nose and disappears for a few seconds as he puts the bowl down in the kitchen. He folds his arms and leans against the wall.

“Steve, maybe you should talk to someone,” he says softly.

Steve bristles. “I don’t need to talk to anyone.”

“You obviously do and you won’t talk to me or Clint or Sam. I’m pretty sure you only tell Dr Banner the bare minimum about how you feel. You went through something-”

Steve shakes his head. “Bucky, fuck off.”

Bucky frowns. “Steve-”

“No. I’m so fucking sick of being treated like an invalid. I’m sick of the way you treat me,” Steve spits.

Bucky’s frown deepens. “What are you talking about?”

“If you want a pet so badly, why don’t you just get a fucking hamster?” Steve says and he watches Bucky’s face crumple in hurt and he hates himself for it but it feels so good to direct the anger outwards instead of in on himself like he always has.

“You really think that?” Bucky says and he pushes himself away from the wall. He’s getting angry now. “You honestly think that I like this?” He’s shaking.

“You’ve always liked a project,” Steve says.

Bucky stares at Steve for a moment and then walks past him to his room. He slams the door.

Steve swallows hard. He goes into his own room and closes the door. He’s about to crawl back into bed when his phone rings. It’s Dr Banner.

“Good news, your bloodwork came back fine. A little low on the iron but just keep taking the pills I prescribed and we should be able to get that back up.”

“That’s great, thank you.”

“My pleasure, Steve. Take care.”

Steve gets back into bed.

*

Bucky doesn’t talk to him for two days. He doesn’t cook anything. The bowl of pretzel mix sits on the kitchen counter until it goes all hard and weird. Steve doesn’t touch it. His anger is still bubbling away, set on a low simmer. _Bucky can clean up his own mess_.

Steve starts to look for jobs on his laptop. It tires him out which makes him feel crap and his cough has deepened, which in turn makes him feel even more angry. He worries about money, about the rent and the grocery shopping and the bills that Fred and George are obviously paying for and he wants to scream. When will this end? When will he ever just be able to live his life without everyone else having to carry him?

Bucky walks into the living room in his work clothes at around 1pm. He makes himself lunch. Steve watches him.

“You’re going back to work?” It’s the first thing he’s said to Bucky since their fight.

“Yep.” Bucky’s eyes have dark rings under them and Steve almost feels bad.

Bucky doesn’t say anything else to him and Steve almost says something, just to start a fight, just to get something out of Bucky but he doesn’t.

Bucky leaves without saying anything and Steve closes his laptop with a slam. He’s so sick of this place. He hasn’t left the apartment since he got out of the hospital, save to sit out on the fire escape. He gets up and get dressed, bundling up because it’s late October and cold as balls already. He was sick all through the summer and he feels cheated that this year, all he’s felt is the cold. He puts on his heavy duffel coat and grabs his keys.

Steve walks around for a while, just wandering through the streets. He’s so glad to see Brooklyn again. He keeps his hands in his pockets and buries his face in his huge scarf. He can feel the cold in his lungs every time he breathes and he tries not to think that he might be doing himself more harm than good, just wanting to enjoy being outside. He’s already starting to feel tired and doesn’t that just make him feel like a failure. He blinks back tears and sees a coffee shop ahead and realises that he’s left his wallet and his phone at home. He does a quick search through his pockets and finds a twenty. _That’s the first good luck I’ve had in a while,_ he thinks bitterly. He immediately revels in the warmth and rich coffee smell of the place. He’s feeling a little wobbly so he orders a camomile tea and a panini and sits down, glad to be off his feet. It’s starting to get very cloudy outside and he hopes it doesn’t start to rain later.

He sips his tea and eats his panini. It’s not as good as the ones Bucky makes but it’s warm and dripping with cheese. He sits and people watches, gets more tea. His anger is still there but now pity for himself is creeping back with a vengeance. Steve has never allowed himself much self-pity. What’s the point? It’s wasted energy. But now, now he just wants to let it take him for a while. He’s such an ass. He can’t fix everything on his own and he knows it but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. He should have just told Bucky how he’s been feeling all this time but he didn’t want to drag him down any more than he already has.

Steve doesn’t realise how late it’s gotten until the street lamps come on and he can see a fine drizzle through the yellow light.

“Shit,” he mutters and checks how much money he has left. 2 dollars. Not enough for a cab, the subway or an Uber and he walked at least 40 minutes to get here. He could ask someone at the coffee shop to call him a cab and attempt to pay it back at the apartment but he has some pride left. He pulls up his hood, buries his lower face in his scarf and starts to walk.

By the time he gets back home, he’s damp and cold and his chest does not feel good. He breathes slowly though and just gets in the lift to his floor. He doesn’t even know what time it is. 7pm maybe?

When he opens the door and steps in, Bucky is standing in the middle of the living room, his face a complete mask of panic, his eyes wide.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he says, storming over as Steve shakes off his wet coat. “You’re soaking. For fuck’s _sake_, Steve!”

“I just went for a walk,” Steve says and pulls off his boots.

“In the rain, without your phone. I thought you’d been taken to the hospital or something. I’ve been worried sick,” Bucky says, getting angry now.

“You’ve been at work,” Steve says, his own anger rising. “How have you had time to worry?”

Bucky shakes his head. “I came back before I got to work to say sorry and you were gone. I called everyone, I even called the fucking hospital.”

Steve explodes. “Oh great! Thanks for that, Buck! As if my life wasn’t already pathetic enough.”

Bucky looks like he’s trying very hard to control himself. “You’ve been out all day in the wet and the cold. You could easily make yourself ill again.”

“Then you’d get to look after me and be the big man all over again. Congrats.”

There are a few seconds where Bucky’s face shows pure rage and he suddenly steps forward and shoves Steve. Not hard but he’s _never_ shoved him, ever. Steve is stunned into silence.

“You selfish prick,” Bucky screams and tears start streaming down his face. “You almost died. You almost fucking died. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

At that, Steve’s anger leaves him. He’s frozen in shame.

Bucky is trembling as he cries. “I’m listed as your next of kin. I had to...had to go and sit with a grief counsellor at the hospital and talk about arranging your funeral if you died. I had to call my folks and tell them to be prepared because it was that bad.” Bucky is sobbing. “I barely slept for two weeks because I was so scared that if I closed my eyes for a second, you would be gone.”

Steve can’t speak. The hard ball of anger in his chest has dissolved into something cold.

Bucky swipes at his eyes and his anger comes back through his tears. “So tell me what a big man I am for not wanting my best friend to die. Fuck you, Steve. Fuck you.”

He grabs his coat and pushes past Steve. The slam of the front door rattles something in the kitchen and the silence that Bucky leaves behind is the worst thing Steve has ever heard. He’s never seen Bucky like that before and he feels sick to his stomach that he’s the one that made Bucky look like that. On shaking legs he walks over to the couch and sits down. He thinks about Bucky cooking for him. He thinks about Bucky taking time off of work. _God knows I need it too_. He thinks about the grey in Bucky’s hair that wasn’t there before and he bursts into tears. He’s hurt the one person he loves more than anything in the world so badly. Through his sobs, he taps out a text on his phone.

STEVE: I’m so so sorry.

STEVE: Please come back.

*

Steve knows he nearly died. He knows. He couldn’t think about it otherwise he would have fallen apart at the seams so he got angry instead. At himself, at the universe. At Bucky. But he’s not angry now. All of his anger left with Bucky. He has a hot shower and takes his meds. He sits in the living room for four hours waiting for Bucky but eventually goes to his room and gets into bed, drifting in and out of sleep.

The sound of the front door closing softly wakes him at 2.30am. His bedroom door is ajar and he waits to hear Bucky walk to his own bedroom but he doesn’t. Steve lies there for a few moments and then gets up and pads into the hall.

Bucky is sitting on the couch, his head in his hands.

“Buck?” Steve says.

Bucky rubs his face and turns to him. He’s not angry any more. His eyes are red and he looks exhausted.

“Hey.”

“Where have you been?” Steve asks and sits down on the couch next to him.

“MacDonalds. It’s 24 hours and has cheap coffee.”

“Bucky, I’m so sorry,” Steve says and his voice breaks on the last word. He sobs into his hands. “I’m so so sorry.”

Bucky’s arms are around him then and Steve finally lets himself lean on Bucky, to be comforted in the way he wants.

“It’s okay, Stevie. It’s okay. I’m sorry too.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I’ve been such a...such a...”

“Asshole? Dick? Idiot?” Bucky offers, his own face wet with more tears. He’s smiling a little now though.

Steve nudges him. “Jerk. But yeah. All of the above.”

“Steve, you’re allowed to be angry and scared. But you need to talk to someone. Please talk to someone. I don’t know how to help you.”

Steve wipes his nose. “I will. I promise. And you have helped. You have. I didn’t mean any of those things I said.”

“I know,” Bucky says and takes Steve’s hand in his.

“I didn’t even really think about how you felt. I’m so fucking selfish. You were right about that. I hate that I make people feel this way.”

Bucky frowns a little. “What do you mean?”

Steve stares at his knees. “Whenever I get ill. People just worry and feel bad and it never stops.”

“Steve, that’s because people care about you. You can’t help all of this. It’s not your fault.”

“I hate it,” Steve whispers. “I hate being so weak.”

Bucky turns Steve to look at him. “Jesus Christ, Steve. You think you’re weak, you always have and you’re not. You’re the strongest person I know. Through everything that’s happened to you, you always come back, you always make it out. And you think that’s weakness? It’s not. Against all odds, you fight your way out. That’s _you_. And that’s not weak.”

God, Bucky’s eyes are so blue. Steve loves him so much. “I’m so tired of it,” he says and he doesn’t just mean being sick. He means loving Bucky and not being able to tell him.

Bucky hugs him again. “I know. I am too. If I could take it away I would.” They hold each other for a while and then Steve pulls away.

“You’ve always been there for me,” Steve says. “You could have moved out or just...carried on with your life.”

Bucky stares at him. “I never wanted to.”

“Why?” Steve asks, knowing the answer already. _Because you’re my best friend, idiot._

But Bucky looks at him sadly and maybe a little shyly. “You don’t know why? It’s not...obvious?”

And suddenly Steve sees it. Bucky being his friend. Bucky following him through thick and thin. Bucky caring for him. Bucky…

Bucky loving him.

It was always there. Steve was just so caught up with his own bullshit that he never really saw it. His heart leaps and for a second, he’s floored.

“Steve?” Bucky asks and there’s fear in his voice.

Steve looks him in the eyes. “I’m so in love with you, Buck. I have been for...well, forever.”

Bucky is shocked for a second and then breaks into a wide, confused smile. “But...what? I...”

“I love you,” Steve says and he’s never been so confident or happy in saying anything. He smiles and laughs. “I love you.”

Bucky laughs too and leans in for a kiss, but everything’s mismatched and they wind up clicking their teeth together and laughing even harder. Steve’s laugh dissolves into a wet cough.

Bucky stops laughing and grabs the blanket off of the back of the couch and wraps Steve in it. “You’re an idiot for going out today.”

Steve takes a drink from the bottle of water on the coffee table. “I know.”

“We’re going to see Dr Banner tomorrow,” Bucky says.

“Okay,” Steve says.

“Mom and Dad have offered me more money and I’m taking it.”

“Bucky?”

“What?”

“Shut up and kiss me?”

Bucky smiles and his eyes take Steve in for a moment. He leans in and they kiss. It’s warm and soft and everything Steve has ever wanted. They rest their foreheads together for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers. “I’m sorry for ever making you feel bad.”

Bucky kisses his cheek. “Forgiven.”

“I’m sorry you had to...with the funeral,” Steve whispers and tears come afresh.

Bucky holds him tight. “It wasn’t your fault.”

They sit huddles together for a little while and then Bucky stands up and pulls Steve with him.

“Come to bed. Keep me warm.”

Steve smiles and follows Bucky to his room. They snuggle beneath the duvet, nose to nose and sleep.

*

Bucky throws the congealed pretzel mix away the next day.

“I wish I’d helped you with those,” Steve says.

Bucky digs in the cupboard and pulls out bread flour and a packet of yeast. “So help me now.”

They talk and laugh as they knead the dough and shape the pretzels. Bucky makes a few that are heart-shaped. Steve makes a few that are dick-shaped.

*

Steve’s pride still gets the better of him some days but things are better now. He’s letting himself recover. He talks to Sam and Clint. Fred and George visit often and Becca comes too when school is out and she doesn’t have to teach. He sees a therapist once a week and it helps.

Best of all, he can go over and kiss Bucky instead of just daydreaming about it. Bucky always smiles and kisses him back.

*

“I think I’m going to make Baked Alaska,” Bucky says one morning.

“Tricky,” Steve says as he watches Gilmore Girls.

Bucky mumbles as he reads the recipe. “It could all go horribly wrong.”

Steve gets up and walks over to Bucky, winding his arms around Bucky’s waist. Bucky smiles and leans in for kiss. They’ve both been through a lot but they’re both here and in love.

“I’ll help,” Steve says.


End file.
